Part 7

Ken arrived home from work as Misha was finishing the dinner; she heard the crunch of the car wheels on the gravel and felt a flutter. Tonight, if it went well, she would be one step closer to a life with Bob.

She was setting up, placing the three plates on the dining table, just as she heard the car door close. She took the cutlery and placed it precisely on either side of each plate as the front door opened; her heart raced.

Ken made his way through to the kitchen. "Hey, hon, smells great!" He slipped off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair.

"Nope, go get that hung up. I've tidied enough today."

Ken looked around the kitchen; she could see he wasn't sure anything had been done in their house. She hadn't lied; she just wasn't specific about where she had been tidying.

"Of course, Misha," he said.

As he took the jacket off the chair, she studied him for any visible underwear line under his shirt. She could see it. "Have you had that jacket on all day?"

He looked at her sheepishly. "Yes, Misha. I was petrified everyone in the office would see the underwear."

"Did that scare you?" She stepped over to him and firmly grabbed between his legs. She gripped his cock through the expensive suit trousers and squeezed.

His eyes winced as he bit out, "Yes, Misha, it did."

"But you like it, you little pervert." She twisted her wrist and tightened her grip, crushing everything in her hand. "It got your little pecker hard, didn't it?"

She knew Ken never had a small penis, but it seemed a fitting accusation as he stood in his pathetic, sissy underwear beneath his power suit.

"No, Misha."

She let go of her grip and kneed him in the groin. "Tell me the truth!"

He doubled over. "I am, Misha!"

She patted the crown of his head. "I believe you. Good boy."

She then turned back to the slow cooker and checked the dinner. "Get ready; dinner will be soon," she said over her shoulder.

He turned to leave. "Yes."

"Where are you going?"

He turned back to her. "I was going to change. Like I was told."

She turned back to the pot and stirred. "You were told you need to change, but right here is fine."

Ken looked at the large open windows in the kitchen and dining room. "Misha..."

"Dinner is almost ready, so I suggest you hurry up, like a good boy."

Ken began to unbutton his shirt.

Misha wondered what it is she'd ever seen in the hairless, toned physic of her husband, as he pulled the shirt off and placed it over the suit. She did think the pink and white baby-doll suited his tanned skin.

He kicked off his shoes and socks and dropped his trousers.

"Pull them up; you're in a state." Misha nodded to the stockings that had worked their way down in wrinkles on his legs.

"Misha, can I take them off?"

"No, now sit down."

Ken took a seat at the table.

"Not there, the other end."

Ken stood from the chair and walked over to the other end of the table. He sat down with his back to the windows. He looked uncomfortable sitting in the female underwear. Misha had never seen him so unsure.

"Open that wine, will you?" Misha said.

Ken reached for the bottle on the table and uncorked it. As he did the bell rang. He sat bolt upright. Misha quickly ran her fingers through her hair and patted down her dress before clicking away on her high heels toward the front door.

"Misha? Who is it?" Ken's voice was high.

"Oh, I invited Bob over from next door." She waved her painted fingertips at him, brushing off the question.

"Misha, wait!"

Ken ran after her and down the hall; he cornered the stairs and began to climb up.

"Misha, hold on," he pleaded.

Misha continued her brisk steps with her heels clicking against the wooden floor. She reached for the handle and swung it open.

Ken knew he'd have been in full view for a split second. He slammed the bedroom door shut just as he heard the voices.

"Hello, Bob. Nice to see you; you're looking handsome as ever."

"That smells good."

Ken heard the exchange and the door closing. The clicking of Misha's heels told him they were back in the kitchen.

Ken dressed, pulling on a housecoat over top, and returned to the kitchen. Misha was at the cooker and Bob was sitting with his back to him, at the head of the table.

"Pour Bob some wine, Ken. Please hurry and sit," Misha told him.

Ken went back into the room and reached for the wine. He poured it, hoping Bob would not look down at the stockings on his feet. He wanted to pull the housecoat around him tighter to hide his secret dress.

"That's enough, Ken."

"No problem, Bob. Nice you could come." Ken gratefully returned to his own seat on the far side of the table and put his feet under it.

Misha brought over the pot and dished out her chicken satay dish and some rice onto Bob's plate. She piled it high.

"Enough, thanks." He waved a hand to halt her serving extravaganza.

She then dished some onto the plate right next to Bob. Ken noticed now that the place he had been moved from had the two settings close together.

Misha walked over and served a tiny amount onto Ken's plate, then placed the pots in the sink.

She took her seat next to their guest who had already begun to eat. Ken felt annoyed Bob didn't have the manners to wait for his wife to join them, first.

"Nice, Bob?" Misha asked.

He nodded.

Misha lifted her fork and began to dig into the meal. Before she placed it into her mouth she looked over at Ken. She giggled.

"You can start, Ken."

He instantly began to eat the food.

Misha gave little attention to Ken and found herself smiling at Bob. She wondered how he was enjoying the food. She was happy she had him in her house.

Bob was halfway through his food. "Misha, didn't you want to say something to Ken-boy?"

Ken hated being called that.

"Oh, yes!" She sat back in her seat. Taking a napkin from her lap, she dabbed it to her lips before taking a gulp of wine. "Well, as you know, Ken, I have decided to quit work. But, there are also other things I would like you to know."

Ken placed his fork onto his plate; he only had a few forkfuls for his entire serving, so his plate was now empty. Like his stomach.

"The first is, I have contacted the estate agent regarding the house; we can get a value and they will advise the best way to sell."

"Misha, we don't need to! I can earn enough." Ken tried to comfort his wife.

"Oh, silly boy, it's not that we need to it's that I want to. After all, I'll be moving on..."

Ken's face showed pain and confusion.

"See, I've been sleeping with someone else."

Neither Misha nor Ken paid attention to Bob at that moment, but if they had, they would have seen the old man brace himself in his chair.

"Who...? What do you mean?"

"Ken, another man has been dipping his cock in my cunt, and I have been enjoying emptying his balls every chance I get!" Misha sat with a smug look on her pretty little face.

"Misha..." Ken implored, but he remained seated.

"I've been fucking him as soon as you leave for work, and guess what? I'm going to do it morning, afternoon and night from now on!"

"Misha, this is outrageous! Is it some kind of joke?" Ken's eyes began to fill. He wanted to get up from the chair. Not from rage, but in fear; he wanted to run from the room and away from what he knew was the truth.

"The only joke is you, Ken-boy," she quoted Bob.

"Misha," Bob said it this time.

Misha flashed him a reassuring smile.

"Did you know, Bob? Do you know who this bastard is?" Ken turned back to Misha."Is that why you asked Bob to come over, in case I got angry?" Ken was beginning to cry, any remains of powerful masculinity dripping away.

Misha laughed, "Ken-boy, why would you get angry when you like it? You love me getting fucked by another man, another man that holds my heart, that I love more than anything."

"Misha," Bob tried again.

She took his hand. Bob tried to pull it away but she held onto it, both hands resting on the table between the plates.

"Misha, please," Ken pleaded between whimpers.

"It's okay, Ken, you know that that little prick between those legs isn't up for the job. You know you want to lap up cum from my pussy after he has taken me deep."

Ken remained seated, almost unable to control his breathing from the pathetic crying.

"Misha," Bob called, again.

She faced him. "Do you trust me? I got this." She smiled before turning back to the other end of the table.

"Admit it, Ken. What do you want to see me do?"

Ken sat sobbing at the table.

"Admit it!"

"I do." His voice was calmer.

Bob looked at Ken. He could see a change in him; he no longer seemed scared, and fear had left him as acceptance entered.

"Good boy," Misha purred. "And what do you like to see?"

Bob looked between the husband and wife. Ken was holding back.

"Tell everyone at the table, Ken. Now."

"I love to see you getting fucked."

"Louder!" Misha barked.

"I love to see you getting fucked! I want to see a man, a real man, fuck my wife, to spill his cum in her." Ken relaxed into the chair.

"Good boy," Misha said before squeezing Bob's hand. "See, darling? Ken-boy gives us his blessing, don't you, Ken?" She pulled Bob's hand to her mouth and kissed it, then turned to Ken.

"Yes, Misha. Whoever you choose to fuck, it's okay."

"Don't you dare! There is only one man big or good enough for my cunt - Bob Kosinski. He is the only man who deserves me." She lifted herself off the seat and wriggled her dress up to her waist, exposing her pussy as she said it. She pushed her heels into the expensive wood floor and slid the chair across to beside Bob. She took his hand and moved it between her legs.

Initially Bob didn't move, but seeing Ken stay seated with a hunger in his eyes, he soon began to enter her.

Misha placed both her arms behind her with her palms on the seat. She arched her back feeling the fingers enter her. "Tell us Ken-Boy, what do you want to see?" she moaned.

He licked his lips as he leaned to the side and down the table, trying to get a better view of the older man fingering his gorgeous little wife. "I want him to fuck you, Misha. Fuck you like you need to be fucked; fuck you like I can't."

Bob began to move harder now, and Misha complied by adjusting her position.

"Get that housecoat off, you little sissy," Misha instructed.

Ken sprang from his seat; he crouched low to see the old neighbour finger-bang his wife at his own dinner table. He pulled off the housecoat, revealing the sissy underwear. He held no fear, only shame from being dressed like that in front of their guest.

"Show us that little cock."

"Yes, Misha," Ken said, as he lifted the garment over his big, rock-hard cock.

"Pathetic, Bob, isn't it? That little cock was the only thing satisfying me until this monster entered my life." She reached over and kissed Bob hard while grabbing his groin. Bob kissed her back. She continued to kiss him, her tongue entering his mouth, as her hands now unbuttoned his trousers. Bob's hand, now forced away from her pussy, found her braless breast over her dress.

She freed his cock before sitting back. "See, Ken? This is a meat feast, unlike that shrimp dick of yours. Don't you dare touch yourself!"

Ken dropped his hands to his side, keeping his rampant cock at full attention on display.

"You can come closer but stay out of the way," Misha said.

Ken crept closer, the baby-doll swaying as he stepped.

Misha pulled the loose dress material free of her perky tits. She then lifted her leg over Bob and straddled him in the chair, her heels making her small frame taller and the task easier.

"Listen to this, Ken."

She reached down and guided the comfortably small-sized Bob inside her. As he slid into her, a satisfied, sexy moan left her lips.

Ken's knees slightly buckled at the sight, but mostly at hearing the sound of her pleasure.

"Can you hear his massive cock ripping my pussy, Ken?"

Ken nodded pathetically.

"What do you want, Ken?"

"For him to come in you."

Misha rode Bob, her arms on either side of his shoulders, her hands gripping onto the back of the high leather chair back; her hips bucked, twisted and gyrated on top of him, his cock pressing deeper into her. She rode him in the full view of the room, in full view of the windows, in full view of her sissy husband, standing, too petrified to touch himself at the sight.

"He's going to fill me with so much baby-juice, it's going to flood me; and you're going to have to clean me out."

Bob began to groan as the chair creaked and moved as she bounced on him. Misha kissed his neck. "You make me so wet." She moved to his cheek. "You fucking make me so, so wet!"

She ran her tongue across his cheek to his nose; her mouth open and closed over it. She then rained kisses along his nose to his forehead. "Just like that! Fuck me, baby, so the Ken-boy can see."

Passing her tongue over his forehead, she felt him spasm, along with the now-familiar tells of his pending orgasm. "Yes, baby, I love you. Come in me!"

Her arms wrapped around his head as she pressed her lips hard on his forehead. She pulled him tight as she rode out his orgasm. She felt his cum flow and another orgasm erupted deep inside her.

They both sat catching their breath, Misha giggling like a schoolgirl.

Only content after she felt him shrink from inside her, she lifted off him. Bob looked at the once-proud, strapping man standing in front of him in his sissy underwear, looking desperately at his wife's cum-filled pussy.

Misha slumped back in her own chair, her hair falling down over her pretty face. She had lifted her dress and was exposed, her ass cheeks on the edge of the chair.

"Did you enjoy watching me cheat at our dining table, Ken?"

He nodded.

She lifted her hand and curled her index finger open and closed, signaling for him to come over.

Ken approached.

Misha straightened her finger and wagged it in the air for him to stop; Ken stopped dead, and she then pointed the finger to the ground.

Ken got on all fours and crawled over to his wife's feet. Misha smiled as he arrived.

"Chow time, Ken-boy." She reached down and held herself open as the scantily-clad cuckold moved his face to her pussy. He sniffed then licked her wet, used cunt.

"Come on, Ken-boy, more vigour! That's why I only gave you a little on your plate; so you would be hungry for Bob's seconds."

Ken immediately began to push his tongue inside her, his face buried between her legs.

Her hand came to rest on the back of his head. "Good boy. That's a good Ken-boy".

Bob leaned forward and returned to his plate, forking another large piece into his mouth.

"You kids will be the death of me," he said, as he too stuffed his face.

*

Months later

Bob closed the taxi door; he stretched his tired, travel-weary body and arched his back. Hours spent on a plane would do that to an older fellow. He had just enjoyed a fortnight, all-inclusive holiday, paid for by Ken-boy. Yep, two full weeks drinking and laying in the sun on someone else's dime, as they say.

He looked at his own house before looking over to the sold sign on the neighbour's house. The front door of his own house opened and Ken, wearing an apron, looked delighted to see them.

Bob made his way over to the door.

"Good holiday, Bob? Did you fuck Misha lots?"

Bob grunted as he passed him and continued through the front door. "Not as much as usual, with her in her condition." He nodded to the backseat of the taxi. "You keep this old place clean?"

"Yes, sir!" Ken said, as he looked over to the taxi.

A heavily pregnant Misha paid off the driver that had lifted the two suitcases from the boot. He asked, "Do you need help, Mrs. Kosianski?"

"It's Kosinski. No, thank you, I can manage." Misha struggled with the heavy suitcases, her previously petite frame weighed down with a large pregnant belly.

The driver looked at her and then towards Bob, who had just disappeared into the house, before getting back into the taxi. Misha waddled with her burden towards the front door.

"Good break, Misha?" her ex welcomed her.

"Sure. Take these cases to our bedroom; and then you bring your tongue to me, as I need a good cleaning out. Four hours, pregnant, traveling on a plane, and the good seeing-to my darling husband Bob gave me before we left the hotel has me rather in need."

An excited Ken nodded, then took the suitcases from her.

Misha awkwardly sat on the sofa next to the already-seated Bob.

"It's good to get home," she said.

Bob grunted while changing the channel.

The door opened and in walked Ken. He sat at Misha's feet and removed her slip-on's.

"Did the sale go through?" Bob asked.

"Yes, this morning. They'll get the keys early next week." Ken rolled the bottom of the dress up Misha's legs as he spoke.

"And what do they seem like?" Misha asked while closing her eyes and laying back into the sofa.

"They seem nice. She is a doctor. Very pretty. And he is an architect. He looks strong."

Ken moved his head to Misha's panty-free pussy; he began to kiss and probe her unwashed snatch.

"Excellent! And the hidden speakers have been installed?" Bob enquired.

Ken reluctantly lifted his head from between his ex-wife's...